


Castaways

by Klei



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: M/M, Scenes Reminiscent of Eating Disorders, Secret Santa, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klei/pseuds/Klei
Summary: After their latest battle, Dib and Zim wind up stranded in space on a broken ship where there's little to do but talk.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 196





	Castaways

“ZIM!” screamed Dib as he chased his the alien in question down the narrow hallway. “Give that back! It doesn’t belong to you!”

“It does now!” cackled Zim. He carried a glowing three-eyed idol in both arms, which he was currently using as a bludgeon to knock hordes of similar-looking fluffy pink aliens out of his path. “Out of my way, priplite scum!”

Ordinarily, Dib’s long legs gave him the advantage during on-foot chases, but the crowd of small, screaming aliens currently racing in the opposite direction towards the escape pods were making it difficult to keep up without trampling them underfoot.

“Excuse me, pardon me- OUCH!” yelped Dib as one of the so-called priplites bit his leg. “I’m on your side, asshole!”

“Lies! He just wants to steal the idol, same as me!” said Zim, using his mechanical legs to climb up onto the ceiling out of reach of Dib and the priplites alike. “With the power of this device, I’ll be able to take over the Earth- nay, the UNIVERSE with ease!”

“For the last time, it’s not a weapon!” snapped Dib. “It’s just covered in glowing paint!”

“Oh, really?” said Zim. “Well, if it’s _not_ a highly-volatile doomsday device, then I guess you won’t mind if I do _this!”_

With a shit-eating grin spread across his face, Zim violently shook the idol like a child shaking an Etch a Sketch. Dib crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at him, unimpressed.

“Huh…” said Zim. “I was expecting it to explode.”

“You _do_ know that if it actually had exploded while you were holding it, you would have been the first to die, right?” said Dib. He glanced around at the rapidly-clearing hallway. The rumble of dozens of escape pods being launched from the muster station rumbled through the ship. It seemed that the vessel’s passengers weren’t keen on sticking around to put up a fight; Dib had grown so used to dealing with the militaristic irkens that he’d almost forgotten how terrifying this sort of thing probably seemed to civilians.

“This can’t be right!” said Zim, carefully inspecting the idol from his ceiling perch. “The old priplite who invited me here said that this idol could harness the power of the universe!”

“It’s a fucking _idol,_ Zim,” said Dib flatly. “It doesn’t have any actual power! They were just trying to recruit you into their weird-ass space cult!”

“Rrrrgh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” growled Zim, antennae flattened with frustration. He chucked the idol straight at Dib. It struck his head with a loud _thunk,_ causing him to cry out in pain and sending him stumbling backwards. “How dare they waste the mighty Zim’s time on a glorified statue?”

“It’s your own fault for not doing the research!” shouted Dib, angrily rubbing the spot on his forehead that Zim had struck. One of the last priplites to leave hastily snatched the idol from the floor where it had fallen before scurrying after the others to flee Zim’s wrath. “It took me five minutes on the Interstellar Web to figure out what these guys were all about! This ship’s entire purpose is to transport whoever they can sucker into joining them to some sacred black hole as live sacrifices!”

“Oh, yeah?” said Zim. “If you knew there wasn’t really a weapon, then why did you follow me out here?”

Dib tensed, not having expected that line of inquiry. He’d sort of figured it was a given at this point that wherever Zim went, so did he. “Just because it won’t actually help you take over the Earth doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you hijack an entire ship!”

Zim’s eyes lit up, and Dib immediately regretted his choice of excuse. “In that case, you’re too late! The ship is mine!” he cackled. Sure enough, the rumbling came to a stop as the last escape pod exited the vessel. “Looks like you’ve failed again, Dib! _Victory for Zim!”_

Dib whipped out a pair of handcuffs. “That’s what you think! Once I capture you, I’ll return the ship and take you back to Earth to be locked up and experimented on for the rest of your natural life!”

“Never!” said Zim. “I’ll send this whole stupid ship into the black hole! You can’t return it if I destroy it, first!”

“With both of us still on it?” said Dib, who supposed that he really should have seen this coming. Zim and the concept of foresight mixed about as well as oil and water. “How are you not seeing the problem with these plans?”

“Your pathetic human mind games won’t work on me, Dib!” said Zim, using his mechanical legs to laser a hole through the ceiling in order to reach the next floor up where the ship’s bridge was located. “Have fun taking the long way!”

 _“ZIM!”_ growled Dib as Zim disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

Dib quickly looked around. It didn’t seem like there was anything he could climb on to get up there, and even if he could, he wasn’t sure he could fit; he’d grown to be a fair bit larger than Zim, after all. With no other options, Dib hurried down the hallway to the ship’s central lift and slammed the ‘up’ button with his palm, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor as he waited.

 _Ding!_ He hurried into the elevator and rapidly tapped the ‘close door’ button, which worked about as well as the ones back on Earth.

Finally, the elevator began its ascent. Dib paced back and forth inside of the lift compartment as it slowly, _slowly_ made its way up to the next floor. The entire ship seemed to lurch as Zim presumably took control of the vessel. A few years ago, Dib might have panicked, but after six or so years of nearly dying every week, he was practically numb to such fears.

He raced out of the elevator as soon as it reached the next floor and slammed his fist against the sliding doors to the bridge.

“Open the door, Zim!” he ordered. No response. He attempted to pry the door open with his hands, but they were too smooth to grab onto. With gritted teeth, he took a step back and attempted to kick them down with all of his might, but all he accomplished was hurting his foot, leaving him hopping with pain. He leaned against the wall to steady himself, only for the door to immediately slide open. Shocked, Dib lifted his hand off of the wall to find that he’d placed his palm against the ‘open’ button.

Despite the impending danger to his life, Dib glanced behind him to make sure there weren’t any priplites still onboard to have witnessed that.

“Hey!” said Zim as Dib stepped out onto the bridge. It was a fair bit smaller than he’d imagined, being only slightly larger than an airplane’s cockpit, but seeing as it was a civilian-owned vessel and not an enormous government warship, he supposed that made sense. “That was supposed to be locked!”

“You deleted the locking software when you hacked into the ship to take it over, remember?” said Dib.

“Oh yeah…” said Zim, only to immediately shield the controls with his body. “Stay back! I’m armed!”

“If you were armed, you would have shot me by now,” said Dib, striding up to Zim and lifting him away from the controls like a parent picking up an unruly toddler. He tucked the screaming alien under one arm as he looked over the controls. All the while, the little blip on the radar labeled ‘Black Hole’ drew steadily closer to the center. “Steering, steering…” His eyes landed on a large joystick-like device. “Is this it?”

He grabbed the stick and tilted it to the right. Although the only thing visible through the window was darkness, the radar seemed to indicate that they were, in fact, turning away from certain death. Dib breathed a sigh of relief.

 _“Warning,”_ said a robotic voice. _“Mobile generator detecting accelerated energy drain. Insufficient power to engines.”_

“Energy drain?” said Dib.

“You broke it!” accused Zim. “You primitive monkey!”

“All I did was turn the ship! You were in here before I was!” said Dib. “If anyone broke it, it was you!”

Zim jabbed him with one of his mechanical legs to break free of his grip, then took several steps back without retracting them. Ever since Dib had started to grow, Zim had made a habit of using his PAK to match his height whenever possible. Dib rolled his eyes.

“You-” began Zim, only to be interrupted by his own PAK.

 _“Energy levels low. Switching to emergency power mode,”_ announced the device. Zim’s eyes widened as his mechanical legs retracted of their own volition. _“Diverting power from all auxiliary functions to life support.”_

“What…?” said Zim, only to direct an accusing stare up at Dib. “What did you _do?”_

“Me?” said Dib. “I saved our lives! You were gonna drive us straight into a black hole!”

“Well, obviously I would have taken one of the escape pods out of here before we reached the event horizon,” scoffed Zim.

“There aren’t any escape pods left! The priplites used them all!” said Dib as the steady hum of the engines whirred to a stop. He glanced down at the radar. They weren’t heading straight into the black hole anymore, but they were still caught in its gravitational pull. Based on the angle and distance, he figured it was safe to assume that they were caught in its orbit.

“You don’t know that!”

Dib gestured to the indicator for the muster station, which was presently displaying a big, fat ‘0/20 Escape Pods Remaining.’

“Well, you must have gotten here somehow!” huffed Zim. “I’ll just steal _your_ ship!”

Dib grabbed him once again, a feat made even easier now that he couldn’t use his PAK legs to help him break free. He slapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Looks like I’ll have to tow this thing back to its owners,” grumbled Dib, heading out of the bridge and back towards the hangar he’d parked in under the guise of delivering a pizza.

“With Tak’s old ship? You’ll never generate enough thrust to drag something this big out of orbit!”

“Then I’ll just have to contact them and let them know where we left it!” said Dib. “Either way, I’m taking _you_ back to Earth!”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to turn me in to the priplites?”

“Well, yeah,” sputtered Dib. “But then I couldn’t expose you as an alien, could I?”

Dib stepped down the stairs into the hangar where Tak’s ship sat in wait. As he went to open the door, however, the bitter AI’s voice made a monotone announcement:

 _“Power depleted,”_ droned Tak’s voice. _“Engines inactive.”_

Dib blinked. “Uh, ship?”

 _“Artificial intelligence suspended,”_ said the ship. _“Shutting down…”_

The lights of the small ship flickered and died, along with any hope of making it back to civilization.

“Uh-oh…” said Dib. He opened up the panel containing the engine. “That’s weird. Everything _looks_ fine.”

“You clearly don’t know how to work with irken technology,” said Zim. “Let me see it!”

“And why would I trust you?”

“Because the alternative is floating in space forever,” said Zim. Dib couldn’t come up with a suitable counterargument, so he reluctantly set Zim down and freed one of his wrists from the handcuffs. Zim held out his other wrist, clearly expecting both to be released, only for Dib to click the opposite end to his own wrist, instead.

“Now you can’t jump in as soon as it’s fixed and leave without me.”

Zim scowled and tugged at his wrist, which he couldn’t even bring down to rest at his side due to the short length of the cord connecting them. “It’s too small.”

Dib hit a button on the remote in his pocket, and the cord connecting the cuffs together extended to a few meters in length.

“How’s that?”

Zim grumbled something inaudible and got to work looking over the ship’s engine.

“That’s strange…” said Zim. “Everything _looks_ fine.”

“That’s exactly what I just said!”

“Yeah, like I’m going to trust some _human’s_ opinion,” said Zim. He ran his gloved fingers over the internal mechanisms. “If it’s an energy problem, then the generator is probably- No, that’s fine… Hrm.”

“This is really strange,” said Dib, looking around the ship. “First the priplite ship, then your PAK, now Tak’s ship… It’s almost like there’s some external force draining our power.”

“Like what?” said Zim. “The nearest claimed system is over a hundred stars away, and for good reason; none of the planets in this sector are even remotely habitable.”

A bubble of dread was starting to form in the pit of Dib’s stomach at the secondary implication of Zim’s words; no nearby inhabitants meant that the odds of someone finding them all the way out here were incredibly slim.

“Okay, well, the priplite ship was the first thing to start having issues. Maybe whatever caused it to malfunction is emitting some kind of signal that’s fucking up the rest of our technology,” suggested Dib.

“That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with,” said Zim. “A ‘signal’ wouldn’t be draining the energy from everything else.”

“Well, I don’t see you coming up with any suggestions, space boy!” snapped Dib.

“Yeah, because unlike _some_ people, I actually _investigate_ the problem before coming up with crackpot theories!”

Dib could feel his blood pressure going up with every word that came out of Zim’s stupid mouth. “Oh yeah, that sure means a lot coming from the person who nearly _launched us into a black hole!”_

“I already told you that I had an escape plan!”

“And I already told you why your escape plan wouldn’t work!”

“Then why didn’t you just leave me here?” demanded Zim. “You had a ship! You could have left me here and saved both yourself _and_ the Earth, but you didn’t!” Dib froze, and Zim’s smile widened. “You’d rather risk your life trying to hunt me down so you can prove something to your dad than do what’s best for your planet!”

Dib slammed his fist into the side of Tak’s ship, prompting Zim to flinch.

“You know what? For once, you’re right!” said Dib. “I should have just left you to die!”

He pulled the remote for the handcuffs out of his pocket and clicked the button to release them, wanting nothing more than to storm off before he did something he might regret.

Nothing happened. Both their eyes widened with horror as it dawned on them that whatever was draining their power had affected Dib’s electronic handcuffs.

“Dib…” said Zim quietly. “Tell me there’s a mechanical release.”

“Yeah, there’s a key,” said Dib, rifling through his pockets. “Key, key… Where’s the key?” His heart began to race as he considered the possibility that it had been left back on Earth. At last, however, his fingers closed around the object in question. He carefully pulled the key from his pocket with the caution of a scientist handling beakers full of acid, lest cosmically-ordained shenanigans compel him to drop it somewhere out of reach. It was only after he turned it in the lock and the cuffs clicked open that the two of them breathed sighs of relief.

“See? Our luck is already starting to turn around!” said Dib, rubbing his wrists and putting the handcuffs away for the time being.

“The fact that your total lack of foresight didn’t leave us handcuffed together for however long it takes us to get back to Earth counts as _lucky_ to you?”

“Given our track record? Yes, absolutely,” said Dib. “Now all we have to do is figure out why the ship’s not working, and how hard could that be? I bet we’ll be done in a few hours, tops!”

* * *

Dib stared into the bridge’s dash camera with the hollow-eyed lassitude of an inmate on death row.

“We’re coming up on day fourteen of being stranded in space, according to the ship calendar,” said Dib. “The priplites took most of the water with them when they abandoned ship, so I’m currently surviving off of my own filtered piss. You’d think the universe would consider that punishment enough, but nope. As it turns out, the priplites’ pilgrimage was only supposed to be a three-day trip. The good news is that, with so many of them making the journey, they brought plenty of food, and since Zim doesn’t actually need to eat, I somehow managed to convince him to keep his grubby little claws off the supplies. The bad news is that most of it is perishable, so even though there’s enough food for a couple dozen people, the reality is that it’s all gonna go bad long before supplies run out.

“Zim proposed a solution, but it’s honestly almost crueler than just letting me starve to death. I always figured irkens had a lot in common with insects – I mean, they’ve got freaking antennae, for crying out loud – but it turns out the similarities run even deeper than that. See, there’s this genetic holdover from way back when they still needed to eat that lets them take in certain foods and produce a honey-like substance a lot like what bees make back on Earth. The low water content and high sugar levels mean it lasts almost indefinitely once it’s been filtered, and it’s got more or less all of the nutrients that a human needs to survive. Just like bee honey though, the actual process used to create it is… Well, let’s just say there’s a reason I’m sitting in here while Zim goes through and converts all the perishables into ‘irken honey.’”

Dib shuddered.

“Long story short, bugs are gross, and so is Zim. If I somehow make it back alive, I’m never going to make fun of Gaz’s shitty cooking again,” said Dib. “No joke, I once saw her put raw eggs and bologna in a blender and straight-up fucking _drink_ it. I don’t know if it’s a holdover from the time I put that pig-tasting curse on her, or if she’s just a God-damned psychopath, and I don’t care. It couldn’t possibly be worse than this. Anyway, this is Dib, signing off.” He paused. “Is that what you’re supposed to say at the end of these recordings? I’d Google it, but there’s no WiFi in space. Whatever. End of video.”

He switched the camera off and set it down with a heavy sigh that echoed through the spacious confines of the bridge. The first time he’d been to space, he could have stared into the inky black abyss for hours. After about ten trips to the stars, however, the novelty started to wear off, and Dib had quickly come to realize that the vast majority of the universe was the equivalent of an empty highway in the middle of a lifeless desert. The different destinations _along_ that highway were cool, but the nigh-endless void surrounding it was decidedly less interesting.

There was a gentle ‘ding’ as the door to the bridge slid open behind him, and in walked Zim with a jar full of translucent green goo.

“That’s the last of them. If you ration it carefully, it should last you at least another three months,” said Zim, taking a seat on the chair beside Dib’s and wiping a trail of spittle from his mouth. “Well? Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“For what? Prolonging my death? Gee, thanks,” said Dib, throwing his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. “I’m so grateful that I get to spend an extra quarter of a year on a broken ship in the middle of nowhere.”

Zim’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to kill you faster, instead? Because I will!”

“Go ahead,” said Dib. “It can’t be worse than spending another second stuck out here with you.”

“Well, _too bad!”_ said Zim, jumping up in his seat. “I didn’t spend three hours of my life regurgitating food for you-”

“Please don’t remind me how you made it.”

“-just so you could die before ever even touching it!” snapped Zim.

“Uuuuuhg, fine,” said Dib, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you doing in here, anyway?” said Zim. “We already checked this room for damage, remember?”

“We’ve already checked _all_ of the rooms for damage,” said Dib. “We’ve gone through the entire ship from top to bottom at least seven different times now, and everything looks fine. There’s seemingly no reason for this ship not to work, and yet here we are, trapped in the orbit of a black hole, which actually sounds pretty cool until you remember that black holes are completely invisible!” Dib gestured towards the window, through which literally nothing could be seen. He collapsed back into his chair and threw up his hands. “Congratulations, Zim. We live in a huge, uncaring universe where there are practically infinite ways to die, and you went and picked the most tedious one of them all.”

“You’re blaming _me_ for this?” said Zim incredulously. “You were the one who started the fight! I would have been in and out of this ship before anyone even noticed if you hadn’t followed me out here!”

“You were trying to steal a superweapon so you could take over the Earth!”

“Well, it’s not like _they_ were using it for anything!”

“They _worshipped_ it, Zim. They saw it as the physical manifestation of their _god.”_

“Eh, it would have been destroyed when they got taken over by the Irken Empire, anyway,” said Zim with a shrug.

Dib pressed his fingers to his temples. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be the last person I ever talk to before I die.”

Zim snickered. “Yes, because you have _so_ many other friends that you might have wanted to see before you died! Oh, wait! No you don’t, because _nobody likes you!_ HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“You’re one to talk!” said Dib. “You’ve been on Earth for six years now! How long was it supposed to be before your leaders showed up with the armada, again?”

“Foolish human!” laughed Zim. “Four years ago, my Tallest specifically told me that they were going out to buy a carton of space milk, and that they would call when they got back!” Zim froze. “Wait a minute… There’s no such thing as space milk!”

Dib pressed his hands together in prayer. “Please, God, if you really _do_ live inside of that black hole, end my suffering and kill me already.”

“Kill _yourself,_ you big smeet!” said Zim. “But first, I need you to grab the toolbox from the upper shelf of the engine room.”

“What’s the matter?” teased Dib. “Too short to reach it without your weird robot legs?”

Zim glowered. “Just because you’re content to give up and die doesn’t mean I am!”

“I’m not giving up! I’m just being realistic!” said Dib. Zim hopped up onto the armrest of the chair he was sitting in and smacked him across the face. Dib jerked back and clutched his cheek, both pained and startled. “What the hell?”

“Realistic? Don’t make me laugh!” said Zim. “When reality doesn’t align with your needs, you don’t just roll over and accept your fate! You fight back and _conquer_ it!”

“Just like you conquered the Earth, huh?” said Dib, only to be smacked again. “Stop that!”

“Not until you stop acting like you’re okay with dying!” said Zim, attempting to smack him a third time only for Dib to catch his wrist.

“Why do you care? You’ve wanted me dead for years!” said Dib, shoving Zim off the armrest.

Zim’s antennae stiffened. “Because!”

“Because _why?”_

“Because it’s not satisfying!” said Zim at last, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away. “I’m supposed to be the one to kill you! Not starvation, or oxygen deprivation, or old age! Me! _Zim!”_

“Well, that’s not so bad, I guess,” said Dib, resting his head against the back of the seat and closing his eyes. “At least I get to deny you that last bit of satisfaction.”

_Smack!_

“Would you quit it, already?” said Dib. He grabbed Zim, got to his feet, and chucked him out of the bridge like a tiny green bowling ball. He hit the ‘close door’ button, followed by the lock. There was a sound of fervent tapping as Zim attempted to reopen it.

“What…? Why isn’t it working?”

“I locked it, dumbass,” said Dib, settling back down in his seat to stare into the void.

“But I broke the lock!”

“Yeah, and then I fixed it,” said Dib.

“What? _How?”_

“Because I’m a fucking genius, that’s how,” said Dib. He _was_ a genius, if he did say so himself, but the actual reason he’d been able to reset the locking system so easily was that Zim had been using the same override code in all of his malware for the past six years. “Finally, some peace and-”

 _“Warning,”_ blared the ship. The lights flickered to red. _“Emergency energy stores are approaching critical levels. All powered doors have been set to open.”_ There was a sliding sound as every last door on the ship slid open.

“Yep. Should have seen that coming.”

* * *

“Day twenty-four of being stranded in space,” said Dib to the dash cam. “I keep trying to barricade the bridge with whatever furniture I can find so that Zim can’t get in, but he’s like a fucking cat when it comes to squeezing his way through tiny gaps. For as insecure as he can be about his height, it sure does seem to come in handy for him sometimes.” Dib’s stomach growled. “I ate the last of the actual food three days ago. All that’s left is the snot-green jars of ‘honey’ that Zim made. He keeps checking in on me every few hours or so to see if I’ve eaten it. Fuck knows why; maybe it’s actually poisoned? He _did_ say he wanted to kill me himself, after all.” Dib stared into the glass jar still sitting on the dashboard. “The stubborn side of me wants to go on starving out of spite, but honestly, it’s amazing how edible even the grossest things start to look once you’ve missed nine meals.” His stomach continued to growl. “They say the average human can survive about three weeks without eating. I can’t remember if it’s three weeks before you die outright or three weeks before your organs start to shut down, though. Either way, I can already tell it’s a pretty shitty way to go.”

He clutched his empty stomach and scrunched up his face.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” said Dib. “You know, dying. I’d like to think about something else, but, well, there’s not a whole lot else to do for entertainment on a ship with limited power. I think I’ve disassembled and reassembled everything on this ship that isn’t either welded down or vital to keeping us alive. Hell, half the reason I’m even recording this is because it’s something to do.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “I could talk to Zim, I guess, but then I’d have to come up with a reason for approaching him in the first place, and we’d probably just get into another argument, anyway. But then, I guess I’ve always preferred fighting Zim to being alone, huh?” He chuckled darkly. “Maybe that’s why he’s so determined to get me to eat. If I die, he’ll be stuck here all alone, maybe even for the rest of his natural life, and who knows how long that is? A hundred years? Two hundred? Hell, irkens could live indefinitely, for all I know.” Dib shuddered. “No wonder he’s so determined to get out of this mess.”

There was a knock on the pile of stacked tables and chairs masquerading as a door. Dib quickly switched the camera off.

“What do you want, Zim?” asked Dib.

“You haven’t hydrated in almost twenty-four hours!” said Zim, pushing a jar of water through the maze of furniture legs with a mop. “Hurry up and drink so you can get back to work fixing this ship!”

“You’re wasting your time!” said Dib. Despite his harsh words, he still snatched up the water jar, unscrewed the lid, and eagerly guzzled it down.

Zim army-crawled his way under the barricade and squeezed his head through the largest available gap.

“Enough is enough!” he said, getting to his feet and brushing off his pink uniform. “You’ve been wallowing in self-pity for over a week now!” He flattened his antennae. “And you stink even more than usual!”

“There’s not enough filtered piss for me to take a shower in,” said Dib flatly.

“If it’s water you need, we can make more,” said Zim, clutching his antennae in what Dib could only assume was the irken equivalent of pinching your nose. “It’s just dihydrogen monoxide. If we extract some hydrazine from the fuel tanks, we can use an iridium catalyst to-”

“Don’t care.”

Zim frowned. “What _happened_ to you?”

“What do you mean, ‘what happened to me?’”

“You’ve changed,” said Zim. “The Dib I know would stop at nothing to get back to Earth!” His eyes narrowed. “Are you an imposter?”

“I’m not an imposter, Zim,” said Dib. “I just grew up. You should try it sometime.”

“I’m older than you!”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Dib. “Besides, my goal was always to protect the Earth, and as long as you’re out here, humanity is safe. It’s my win.” He took a long swig of water. “Victory for Dib.”

Zim climbed into the chair beside Dib’s.

“Why did you come after me?” said Zim. “You knew there wasn’t really a superweapon.”

Dib sighed. “It gave me an excuse to skip out on work, I guess.” He grimaced. “Wonder how many days it’ll take before my dad notices I’m gone.”

“Why do you work there if you hate it so much?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” said Dib. “I’m nineteen now, and paranormal investigation doesn’t exactly pay the rent unless you’re charismatic enough to host a television show about it.”

“Liar,” said Zim. “You’re eighteen. You won’t be nineteen for another five days.”

“Close enough,” said Dib, swirling the water around in the jar he was holding. “I’m impressed that you remembered my birthday. Not even my dad remembers it half the time.”

“Of course I remember your birthday!” said Zim. “That’s the time of the year when I pull out all the stops to make you extra miserable!” He cackled to himself. “Remember the time I left you that cake with a dead squirrel in it?”

“That was you?” said Dib. “I just assumed it was from Gaz.”

 _“What?”_ said Zim, aghast. “But I spent two hours frosting it!”

“Sheesh, I didn't-”

“I’m not done!” said Zim, standing up in his chair. “That wasn’t even the first cake! There were seven more before that! GIR ate the first one, so for the second try, I made a _back-up_ cake, but he still found and ate both of them! After _that,_ I made three more cakes and hid them throughout the house only for mice to get to them, so I distracted GIR with the scraps while I made one more cake and delivered it to your house as soon as it was finished!”

“Wow,” said Dib. "That's a lot of effort for a prank.”

“But of course! How else would you know how much I despise you?” said Zim proudly. “Only the best schemes are worthy of my most hated nemesis!”

“Yeah…” said Dib. “Sure.”

* * *

“Day twenty-nine of being lost in space,” said Dib to the camera. “Lost in Space… I never did get around to watching that series, did I? It’s been sitting in my ‘watch later’ list on Netflix since it came out, but I just kept putting it off. Well, too late now, I guess.” Dib shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve given up on trying to barricade the door. Not only was it not working, but it makes it a pain in the ass to go to the bathroom.” He glanced over at the empty jar sitting on the dashboard. “I finally caved and ate that green shit Zim gave me. Maybe it’s just because I was starving at the time, but it was actually really, _really_ good; it tasted almost like real honey, but heartier, somehow. I’m still not entirely clear on the biological processes at play, but it’s a pretty interesting example of convergent evolution, and I’ve already come up with a few theories about ancient irkens based on-” He paused, then grimaced. “There I go again, getting all excited about alien biology like it’s actually gonna do me any favors to know this shit. Nobody back home gives a crap about my stupid theories.”

He put his feet up on the dashboard. “Moving on, I’m officially nineteen Earth-years old starting today. Now that I think about it, this is the first birthday I’ve had since Zim showed up where nothing completely disastrous happened.” He paused. “Well, not including the fact that I’m trapped in space, anyway. A part of me keeps expecting him to burst through the doorway with some kind of horrible superweapon, but considering the circumstances, I guess even Zim understands just what a wasted effort that would be.” He stared down at his knees. “Is it weird that I’m a little disappointed?”

“Dib-thing!” called Zim, and Dib switched off the camera. “Behold!”

Dib spun the chair around to see Zim carrying what looked like lump of jell-o with a single unlit candle sticking out the top.

“Where did you even get the materials for that?” asked Dib.

“I chilled the honey in the freezer and sculpted it into something vaguely resembling a birthday cake,” said Zim. “As for the candle, irkens are capable of creating wax from sugar just like your Earth-bees, so I rolled some around a piece of copper wire. It doesn’t light, but it still looks like the real thing!”

Dib leaned in. On closer inspection, it was clear that the candle wick was, in fact, a piece of metal.

“Why would you do all this?” said Dib. “Don’t you hate me?”

“Well, usually I use your birthday to make you _more_ miserable,” said Zim. “In this case, however, your misery is actively counterproductive to my goals, so I figured I would try to make you _less_ miserable, instead.” He set the place down on the chair next to Dib’s.

“Thanks, I guess,” said Dib, staring into the jiggling green lump. “That was nice of you.”

“Don’t get used to it!” said Zim. “As soon as we get back to Earth, I’m going to come up with a plot so devious that you’ll fall to your knees and beg me for mercy!”

“Zim…” sighed Dib. “Don’t you get it? We’re never getting back to Earth.”

“That’s not true!” insisted Zim. “You’ll see! Once I figure out what’s wrong with the ship-”

“There’s nothing wrong with the ship!” said Dib, rising to his feet. "We’re stuck in a place we don’t want to be, it fucking sucks, and there’s _nothing we can do about it!_ The more you try to fight it, the more miserable you’re gonna make yourself when it doesn’t work, so just give up, already!”

“No!” said Zim, stomping his foot. “I have to get back to Earth so I can take over the planet before my Tallest arrive with the-”

“Don’t you get it?” interrupted Dib. “The armada is never coming!”

Zim’s antennae drooped.

“I know,” he said in a voice so small that it was almost off-putting.

“And your leaders don’t even _like_ you.”

“I know.”

“Hell, I’m pretty sure there’ve been times where they actively tried to get you _killed!”_

“…I know.”

“So why are you still trying to impress them?” demanded Dib, dropping to his knees and gripping Zim’s shoulders so their eyes met. “Why can’t you just accept that no matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, they’re never going to look at you the way you want them to?” His lower lip trembled, and his voice tightened. “Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? Please. I need to know.”

Zim gently peeled Dib’s hands off his shoulders.

“I don’t do it for them,” said Zim at last. “At least, not anymore.” He swallowed. “I haven’t really wanted to take over the Earth for a long time.”

“What are you talking about?” said Dib. “The whole reason you came out here was for some superweapon, right?”

Zim shook his head.

“I assumed you would stop me,” said Zim. “Just like you always do.”

“But why keep doing this in the first place, then?” said Dib. “Why not leave, or go into hiding somewhere far away?”

“Because I need you to chase me,” said Zim, avoiding eye contact. “I always have. You’re the only person…” His eyes shimmered with unspilled tears. “You’re the only one in the universe who’s ever looked at me as more than a nuisance. But if even you don’t care anymore…” His voice cracked. "I need you, Dib."

Dib wrapped his arms around Zim’s body.

“Do you want to know a secret?” said Dib. He couldn’t see Zim’s face from this vantage point, but he could feel him nodding into his shoulder. “I never gave a shit about what happened to this stupid ship. I only came out here to make sure those fucking cultists didn’t succeed in sacrificing you to the black hole.” He tightened his grip. “You’ve caused me nothing but grief, and you’re the only thing in this stupid fucking universe that makes me want to keep going. The truth is, I really, _really_ like you, Zim.”

“Really?” said Zim. “Heh... That’s pathetic.”

“Not as pathetic as thinking your leaders went out to buy space milk for four years,” teased Dib.

Zim ripped himself free of the hug, his cheeks flushing pink. “At least my people remember my birthday!”

“Wait, really?” said Dib, surprised.

“Of course! It’s an entire holiday! They call it ‘Horrible Painful Overload Day!’” said Zim, perking up so quickly that it was almost difficult to believe he'd been on the verge of tears a moment ago.

“That doesn’t exactly sound like a holiday, Zim,” said Dib, wiping away the tears and snot dripping down his own face.

“Holiday, anniversary of a tragedy… Tomato, tomahto! The important thing is that it’s an entire day named in honor of me!” said Zim, picking up Dib’s ‘cake’ and holding it over his head. “Now eat this before I force it down your throat with a funnel and a tube. You're not allowed to die, understand?”

“Alright, alright. Let me just clear some of these old jars out of the way,” said Dib, reaching for the dashboard only to bump his elbow against the joystick he’d used several weeks earlier to steer the ship out of the way of the black hole. “Ow.”

 _“Low power emergency drill mode offline,”_ chimed the ship. _“Now disabling power drain and restoring autopilot.”_

“Drill mode…?” repeated Zim. _“Autopilot?_ Were we not actually steering this thing at any point?”

Dib took a deep breath and pressed his fingers to his temples.

“Are you _FUCKING KIDDING ME?”_

* * *

Dib shoved open the door to his house.

“I’m back from being stranded in space on a ship with the worst-designed control scheme of all time,” he called, grabbing a slice of the cold pizza sitting conveniently on the counter and taking a bite without bothering to so much as heat it.

“Quiet! I’m about to win my hundredth game in a row!” said Gaz from the living room, her eyes still glued to the battle royale on her computer screen.

“Yep,” said Dib. “It sure is good to be back.”

There was a sound of breaking glass from the lab, followed by a startled cry and panicked footsteps. Professor Membrane burst through the door followed by a trail of smoke, which he coughed and waved away. Upon noticing Dib, however, his eyes lit up. At least, Dib was pretty sure they did; it was hard to tell behind the goggles. “Son! I’ve been looking for you!”

“Wait, really?” said Dib, shocked that his father had actually noticed he was gone.

“Of course!” said Professor Membrane. “How else could I give you your sixteenth birthday present?”

Dib sighed. “I’m nineteen, dad.”

“Birthdays aren’t an exact science, son,” said Professor Membrane, grabbing a dusty wrapped box sitting beside the coffee table and handing it to Dib. “Happy sixteenth birthday!”

Dib tore open the paper.

“Oh,” said Dib, staring at the label and wondering how it was possible to set his expectations so low and _still_ be disappointed. “A kit to make a baking soda volcano.”

“For the record, I told him you wanted the scalpel set,” said Gaz.

“Yeah…” said Dib. “Look, dad, we need to talk.”

“Ah, yes, I always knew this day would come!” said Professor Membrane. “Son, whether you’re attracted to men or women, just remember that all romance is an equally futile endeavor that only serves to distract you from the path of science!”

“What? No! Dad, I told you I was bi three years ago!” said Dib, slamming his palm against his forehead. “I’m talking about my job at your company!”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Professor Membrane. “What about it?”

Dib handed him a sheet of paper with ‘Letter of Resignation’ printed across the top of the page in big, black letters.

“I’m quitting,” said Dib.

“What? Why?” said Professor Membrane, visibly horrified.

“Because I fucking hate it,” said Dib. “I’ve tried so hard to do what you wanted me to do and be who you wanted me to be, and all it’s done is made me miserable. And sure, maybe I’ll crash and burn the second I’m free, but at least it’ll be on my own terms.”

“Son, take a moment to think about what you’re doing,” began Professor Membrane.

“I’ve had almost an entire month to do nothing _but_ think about what I’ve been doing,” said Dib, turning around and heading out the door. “Anyway, Zim’s waiting for me outside. Thanks for the birthday present, kind of. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Keep in- You’re leaving?” said Professor Membrane. “Gaz! Do something!”

“Let me know when you’re done taking over the planet,” said Gaz without looking away from her screen. “I’ve always wanted to play Civ with real people.”

“If everything works out, I’ll be sure to get you a country for Christmas,” Dib assured her. “Anyway, bye, dad!”

“What?” said Professor Membrane, too shocked to formulate proper sentences. _“What?”_

Dib didn’t look back as he strode out of the house to meet Zim by the sidewalk.

“Well, I’ve tied up my loose ends,” said Dib. “How about we tie up yours?”

Zim grinned. “Yes... There’s just one small thing to take care of, first!”

* * *

“Incoming transmission from Earth, sir,” said the technician. The room went silent as the name of the planet assaulted their antennae, triggering such vivid flashbacks of misery and frustration that it almost brought the Tallest to tears.

“It can’t be…” whispered Red. “It’s been four years!”

“M-maybe he’s calling to tell us that he died!” suggested Purple hopefully.

“How could he be calling us if he’s dead?” snapped Red.

“Well, there’s no need to be mean!”

Zim’s clearly living face popped up on the screen.

“My Tallest!” said Zim. “I apologize for interrupting your trip to buy space milk-”

“Space milk?” said Purple, only to be elbowed by Red. “Oh, I mean, uh… Yeah! The space milk!”

“Zim,” said Red, smiling through barely-concealed fury. “We told you not to call us until we got back from the space grocery store.”

“Of course, My Tallest,” said Zim. “I wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important! You see, in light of recent events, my nemesis and I have obtained what the humans call a ‘marriage,’ and according to the rules of this arrangement, I am not to part with the Dib until one or both of us dies. Seeing as humans live an average of about eighty Earth rotations, and the Dib is nineteen, it could be quite some time until I’m able to return to active duty.”

“Wait, so you’re saying you won’t be coming back to Irk for at least sixty years?” said Red, and the eyes of every irken onboard filled with hope.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” said a second voice from Zim’s end, and the camera pulled back to reveal a strikingly tall human with an obscenely large head. He smiled vindictively. “See, the thing is, I fucking hate this planet and everybody on it, so Zim and I decided to have our honeymoon on Irk!”

“What? No!” said Purple. “You can’t go to Irk! Zim, uh…”

“He still has to complete his mission!” said Red.

“I was just getting to that!” said Zim cheerfully. “Dib and I just finished up taking over the Earth this morning.”

“Well, we’ve still gotta draw up the paperwork to make it official, but yeah, we’re basically done,” said Dib. “Anyway, Irk’s a long ways away, so we’ve gotta start packing rations.”

“Oh, which jars do you want me to use to pack the honey?” asked Zim.

“Jars? Why would we use jars when I can eat straight from that cute little mouth of yours?”

Zim blushed and covered his face. “Oh, stop it!”

“Anyway,” said Dib, “Zim and I will be sure to stop by for a visit once we reach Irk! See you in a few months!”

“Bye-bye!” said Zim with a devious grin.

“No, wait, don’t hang up the-” began Red, only for the call to cut out. _“Shit!”_

“Sound the alarm!” cried Purple. “Zim is coming back!”

* * *

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Zim and Dib laughed in hysterics.

“They looked so terrified!” howled Dib, wiping the tears from his eyes and struggling to catch his breath. “We’ve gotta do a follow-up in a week or so where we pretend to be on our way.”

“Absolutely,” agreed Zim, sipping a cup of hot chocolate only to spit it up all over the floor. “Is this _dark_ chocolate?”

“Terribly sorry, My Almighty Zim!” squeaked one of the terrified humans standing in wait nearby. He quickly grabbed a rag to clean up the mess while another hurried out the door to fetch a new cup. “We’ll get you a replacement right away!”

Dib snorted and kicked his feet up on the desk. “You know what? I was kind of on the fence about the whole ‘taking over the world’ thing, but this is actually kind of nice.” He frowned. “I’ve gotta admit, though, I’m a little disappointed by how easy it was. I didn’t expect so many people to surrender from the sight of that priplite ship alone. It wasn’t even a freaking warship. They just took one look at it and panicked.”

“Of course they did. They’re primitives,” said Zim, accepting a new cup of hot chocolate and sipping it like it was fine tea. “The real challenge is taking over a planet that already knows aliens exist.”

“Oh, really?” said Dib, humming thoughtfully. “Sounds like it could be fun. Wanna give conquering a second planet a shot? We could even start our own empire.”

Zim’s antennae sprung up with delight. “Do you even have to ask?”

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I'm at the absolute tail end of the Secret Santa posting deadline! (The prompt was space/supernatural.) I'm so sorry for the delay; it was one of those stories that really didn't want to come together. In any case, thanks for reading!


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